Morning, folks!

Does anybody other than me and Kent Brockman feel this way about the World Cup? Fortunately, Magnum photos of people playing futbol are far more engrossing than the TV broadcasts. Plus, no fucking horns.

A photo is worth a thousand tweets! You know Shit My Dad Says, the Twitter feed Justin Halpern parlayed into a bestselling book? Photographer Philip Toledano embarked on a similar, if more poignant exercise with his blog, which has also begotten a book. Not sure if Toledano will have as much luck landing a network sitcom starring William Shatner, though.

Speaking of Twitter, Zach Baron over at the Village Voice compiles some tweets that might make you glad you didn’t drop $234.50 (not including necessary immunization shots) on a ticket to Bonnaroo—unless you fancy hug-happy strangers, pickle shots, and manhunts for “serial shitters.”

Sufjan Stevens did not play at Bonnaroo. Could it be because he is busy recording a new album? Like, an actual one, with words and stories and stuff? Yes, says Bryce Dressner—and The National is playing on it! No leaks yet, but intuition says it will sound like a combination of lush chamber pop, demure indie rock, and a hundred thousand hipsters climaxing at once.

Last week, when Ted Scheinman and I co-climaxed in a dialogue debriefing the Dave Rawlings show at the 9:30 Club, I called him a “traffic-baiting whore” for dropping Justin Bieber’s name in service of an analogy. Sure enough, I got a pingback from this site yesterday morning. I bring this up in way of confessing that I, too, am a traffic-baiting whore. Welcome, tweens!

Looking for a way to be coy about your affection for godless cinema? There’s an Etsy trinket for that. Don’t click through, tweens!